


Puzzle 3301|Chapter 8

by KaileyFox



Series: Puzzle 3301 [9]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 12:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaileyFox/pseuds/KaileyFox





	Puzzle 3301|Chapter 8

Cold. Even in my haste. Cold and gloomy. And grey. So grey it looked about to break. And then it did. A light sprinkle, then a cascading downpour. Blimey… Sometimes I hated being bang on… I stopped. Shielded her. Then rushed onwards again.

           “Alright, Clive?” came a voice. Someone’s. A mate’s? I didn’t know. I didn’t have time for niceties.

           “Alright…”

           I stepped inside. Sickness and death. I could see it. Hear it. Practically taste it. All around me. Closing in.

           “You’re doing fine… Now turn here…”

            _Will she be alright?_

A sudden cloying stench, noxious, mephitic, forced itself into the back of my throat, nearly causing me to gag.

           “Don’t be silly, you’re barely conscious. I’ll sign you in…”

            _Will my child be alright?_

There came a flash of light.

           “Is there a Justine here?”

            _What if something goes wrong?_

Then the constant beep…beep…beep… that seemed as if it was bound to the beating of my own heart. Pumping it for me. Keeping me alive.

            _Clk-click…clk-click…clk-click…_

I couldn’t help clutching a pen, mimicking the sound.

           …How could this happen…?

           …My daughter so ill she had fainted…

           I watched a mental replay of Justine swaying in her chair. Collapsing to the floor.

           I’d let her fall…

_Clk-click…clk-click…clk-click…_

           “…Dove…?”

           Stop. She’s going to be alright, you know that. She’s strong… Remember when you were ill and Dad stayed home to take care of you? He was so worried you might die but it was only a little flu… Same with Justine… It’s just a little bug, nothing to worry over…

           But this isn’t a normal cold. What if she’s so ill she dies?

           I had more than enough time to react…

           More than enough time to catch her…

           I’d let her fall!

_Clk-click…clk-click…clk-click…_

           “…Mr Dove…?”

           Stop… Think of something else… Remember Dad telling you how nervous he had been when you were born? Mum had forbid anyone but herself and the proper hospital staff to accompany her during delivery…and not until she was rushed in on a hospital trolley did Dad learn that. The poor bloke. He was left to pace the waiting room, his thoughts as frantic as his stride…

           Back…

_Will she be alright?_

           And forth…

_Will my child be alright?_

           Back…

_What if something goes wrong?_

           And forth…

           It seemed I was sharing my father’s dismay. My own feet pacing… Back and forth, back and forth… And thinking those exact words of Justine… Oh, Justine…

           How could I let this happen…?

           Justine fainting…

           What was I doing wrong…?

_Clk-click…clk-click…clk-click…_

           “Please… Let her be alright…”

           “Mr Dove?”

           A voice. I blinked rapidly and looked up. A man in white…

           “Please, have a seat,” he said, his words taking a moment to register to my frazzled mind. “This shouldn’t take long.”

           I blinked again. My head was just beginning to clear and I glanced around me as if awakening from a fever dream. White walls. Blue carpeted floor. Magazines on a small desk to my right. Rows and rows of chairs. Coughing, sniffling, ashen patients. All surrounding me. And I was stood in the middle of it all.

           “Right…” I responded to the nurse who had addressed me. I tentatively seated myself.

           After the nurse left, I thought over the past few minutes, elbows on knees, the tips of my steepled fingers against my forehead. Pacing… I had been pacing… And worrying. And wearing away. And before that I had carried Justine in here. Into the hospital. It was a wonder I even made it here. I had been running off pure instinct… But Justine was here now… She’d be safe… I leant over to set a comforting hand on her shoulder…only to feel my fingers pass through thin air. I threw a look in her direction and a shock of ice coursed my stomach when I saw she wasn’t there.

           “Justine!” I gasped, a flurry of scenarios and questions and locations instantly flooding my mind.

           But then I remembered. That’s right… She’d gone in with the nurse… I released a frustrated sigh, resting back against my chair, my weary eyes open only a fraction as I ran a hand through my hair. I was so wound up, I could barely think straight…

           This apprehension… I knew at least part of it was from my own interview just an hour ago. With Tysan. I recalled his nervous, sweaty handshake. His eyes darting to that drawer. …That knife he’d rested atop his desk once I’d departed…

           But I couldn’t dismiss the truth. Beneath the restless waves of anxiety was a sinking guilt that had been dragging me under for the past hour, filling my lungs with icy water. Justine… Those headaches had been unremitting for at least a week so why hadn’t I heeded those warning signs she was ill? Then I wouldn’t have got her in this situation… I just shouldn’t have let her accompany me to the interview…

           But she would have joined me anyway after I let slip I was headed to Gressenheller…

           But that’s no excuse. I’m her father. I should have stopped her…

           But she has such a strong will… She would have found a way…

           Stop excusing her.

           Stop excusing yourself.

_Clk-click…clk-click…clk-click…_

           I continued on like this for another hour. Sometimes I paced about, hands behind my back, eyes concentrated on the floor. Other times I was slumped in my seat, head hung in defeat. All the while, my mind reeled in an endless cycle. Blaming. Silence. Placation. Blaming. Silence. Placation. Blaming. Silence… Time for another attempt at placation I supposed… I thought of Constance and her wit. Mum and her kindness. Dad and his determination to always put family first. …Putting family first…

           …I hadn’t done that…

_Clk-click._

           “…Dove?”

           I’d let this mystery get in the way…

            _Clk-click._

“…ur daughter…”

           I’d promised them I wouldn’t…

            _Clk-click._

Grey, once again. And wet. And cold.

           Promised myself…

            _Clk-click._

           “…ad…?”

           I knew I wasn’t up to scratch…

_Clk-click. Clk-click._

           “Dad…?”

           I’m a terrible father…

            _Clk-click. Clk_ —

           “Dad!”

           I jerked my head up at the sound of the voice calling me back to the surface. I’d drifted under again… I expected to see the waiting room as I glanced around. But there were no white walls or blue carpet floors. No coughing and sniffling. No ashen faces everywhere I looked. No sickening odour… Instead, I was sat in a small and inviting room, the only light source a dim, warm, glow emitted from a small nightstand lamp. Video game and science posters overlapped one another on all four walls. A wooden desk, assembled with Cogg’s help, stood proudly to my left, two gimp legs and all. Atop it were framed pictures of friends which rested atop some scattered quantum physics papers and books which rested partially atop two laptops. One for gaming. One for research. I was no longer in the hospital, but in Justine’s room…back home. I couldn’t seem to recall when I’d arrived or how.

           I turned to Justine. She was lying in bed underneath two blankets and a light, fuzzy throw with a video game graphic, watching me with a perplexed expression. I vaguely recalled carrying her inside, covering her up. Now I was waiting for her to return to me. She had. Finally… Despite having seated myself in a chair I’d pulled up to her bedside at one point, for some reason I felt it necessary to stand.

           “You’re awake,” I said simply, I suppose as some sort of greeting. How to address this situation…? “A-Are you feeling alright?”

           “Of course I am.” A faint smile touched her pale lips. This quickly grew into an impish smirk, returning some colour to her face and fire to her eyes. “So you can quit worrying.”

           “Worrying? Who’s worrying?” I asked. _Clk-click. Clk-click._ “Not me.”

           “Mm-hmm…” She glanced to my hand but the implication behind such a look didn’t really register to me as she continued. “I hope you didn’t spend five-hundred pounds on a doctor for me or something…”

           “No, I didn’t.” She seemed to appreciate this…until I continued. “I spent upwards of a thousand pounds on a doctor for you. I wasn’t about to leave any page unturned so I requested more extensive testing. An x-ray, a CT scan, an MRI… And it’s a good job you were unconscious because there was a blood test in the mix as well.”

           “Dad…”

           “In addition,” I lifted a notepad and straightened my glasses, skimming some jagged notes I’d scrawled in anxious haste, “After this whole ordeal, I’ve been considering a new diet for you. More vegetables and more red meats. Less rubbish. Like those microwavable pizzas… I’m chucking them away.”

           “No, Dad!”

           “And less time spent on the computer. No wonder your head hurts. You’re probably being exposed to some sort of radiation with how much you stare at that screen…”

           “Firstly, that’s not how radiation works…”

           “And I was thinking I should bin the internet as well…”

           “Dad, calm down! You’re really talking nonsense now!”

           I stopped, watching Justine a moment, digesting her words. I truly believed this last note might actually be a good idea, but…she was right… I was rambling. And now that she had rested, she seemed quite a lot better. Perhaps it was time I finally allow myself to relax a bit… I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

           “Okay…” I smiled in defeat. “You win. I suppose I have nothing to worry about when all those tests turned up negative, anyway.”

           “So…” she queried slowly, “there’s nothing wrong with me?”

           She looked bewildered, as if she was expecting me to admit there had been one more test and it was positive for something detrimental. To reassure her, I flashed a teasing smirk. “Well, nothing other than the usual…” And for this I received a swift punch in the bicep. “My! Despite being bedridden, you certainly have a good arm!”

           “And don’t you forget it…” She beamed mischievously, even more life igniting in her eyes. Just as I had planned. I mirrored her expression.

           “Don’t go raising your blood pressure, now. I was told stress was a leading factor for your fainting episode, after all…”

           I had begun to chuckle, thankful for this light-hearted moment and that stress really was the only issue. In fact, the more I thought on it, the giddier with joy I felt. It hadn’t been cancer. Or anything worse… And then, I noticed all playfulness had abruptly left Justine.

           “Stress…?”

           She was thinking rather hard, puzzled once more… Did she really believe she was ill with something far worse?

           “Your schedule is rather packed,” I said in an attempt to convince her. “School, an internship, friends, researching far too long into the night. You may be a young’un but your body still needs its rest, Just.”

           “Yeah…”

           Still she was not convinced. Why might this be? Could she have experienced something else while fainting to cause her to believe otherwise? Just then, thoughts of my own families returned to me yet again and it occurred to me. Maybe she was stressed in a different sense… I thought back about ten years. To one of my visits with Justine before I’d adopted her. So much had been different back then. Her name. Her personality. Her living conditions… She had been so small. And frail. Undernourished…

           “ _Good morning, Homuragi,_ ” I’d said with a forced smile, hoping I’d pronounced her given name properly. “ _How are you today?_ ”

           This had been my fifth meeting with Justine and I had felt just as insecure as the first. This was partially due to my guilty conscience, forever stained red with the crimes I’d committed as a young adult. What a joke it was the man who had destroyed London was attempting to be a father… If even one person broke the spell and remembered who I was, what I’d done, they’d laugh me right out of my ability to adopt… But alongside this, I’d been accosted by thoughts of my father for the past few months I’d been meeting Justine. Would I ever be able to fill his shoes? Not only with basic knowledge of being a parent but with the virtues and morals he’d upheld as well? Despite all the classes, meetings, evaluations, I still didn’t feel prepared…

           Noting Justine hadn’t responded to my greeting, I’d looked to her. And it was then I noticed how frightened she appeared; hands behind her back, shoulders hunched, head down as if she was about to be beaten. My brow furrowed. It was difficult to keep my already wavering smile from disappearing entirely. She’d always been reserved but it wasn’t the same this visit… Observing closer, I noticed tear stains, still a bit wet, running from her eyes and off the sides of her cheeks. She’d been crying in her sleep.

           What would Dad say?

           “ _Is something bothering you, Homuragi?_ ” I’d asked. I’d stooped to her level, hoping this would help ease her. “ _You can tell me if you’d like._ ”

           She’d looked to me, her eyes, red and damp, searching my features so closely it felt as though she was analysing my very being, looking into my soul and seeing the dirt and grime it harboured. Great… I didn’t need two people scrutinising me… When she’d finished, she averted her gaze again.

           “ _…Nightmare…_ ”

           My heart broke at the sound of the faint quiver in her already barely audible voice. From the person in charge of the orphanage—a man whom I’d imagine I thought looked a lot like Dad due to the theme of my thoughts at the time—I knew a bit of Justine’s background. I could imagine—no, I knew _precisely_ —what nightmares she’d meant. The acrid stench of smoke and ash. The effulgent, devouring flames. The roaring inferno and screams of agony. The guilt of not having been able to save them and the confusion and fear of what would happen next. This derelict building filled to the brim with strangers who didn’t care for her existence. If she died that very day, good riddance. Less work for them. And the waiting. And hoping. And trusting. Only to find misery and despair. It was all too familiar to me as well.

           And now that I’d considered this, it was just then I’d felt I didn’t need my father to answer for me. I knew what this girl—my future daughter—had gone through. I understood it on such a personal level, we could have experienced the same event. In fact, she was me in a way. A younger me, when everything I had loved was swept away by a raging conflagration.

           Yes, I could step away from my father’s guidance, at least this once. I could let first-hand experience do the talking.

           “ _I understand._ ” I’d responded softly. “ _I have the same nightmares too sometimes, even as an adult._ ”

           She’d studied me again, longer than ever.

           “ _…You do…?_ ”

           “ _Yes._ ” A warm smile had touched my lips, genuine this time. “ _It’s not fun, losing your parents. And waiting for new parents…it seems like it takes forever, doesn’t it?_ ” She’d nodded, her stiff composure loosening a bit. “ _But you don’t have to worry. I’ll keep visiting and making sure you’re alright. And before you know it, we’ll be driving away from all these people and off to my house, just you and me._ ”

           Upon saying this, I’d seen something in those sad, dark, lifeless eyes. Something I’d not seen during any other visit. A faint flicker of hope. A glimmer of happiness just waiting to ignite into a brilliant radiance. A spark of excitement that desired to rise from the ashes of many broken promises. I had begun to restore the life she had indulged in everyday when her parents were still alive. So, this was what fatherhood promised…

           “ _Come on,_ ” I’d said, straightening up, feeling a bit more confident now. “ _Let’s have a walk round the park. I do it all the time after a nightmare and it helps me feel better._ ”

           As she’d slowly, hesitantly stepped forward, I’d felt inclined to offer my hand. It’s what Dad and Mum would do with me, at least. But I had decided against this at the last second. I’d completely forgotten something. I had to remember back to when I was first adopted. How Constance was so excited and ready to give me a home. And of course I’d wanted a parent. But I’d wanted _my_ parents. I’d wanted them back. Because _they_ had known me, understood me, been able to provide for me in every situation. A stranger was someone I’d had to restart everything with. All twelve years of my life I’d had to re-experience with someone completely new to who I was. Not to mention, my mind had already been so completely consumed with the emotions roiling inside me. Guilt, shame, anger, denial, sorrow, depression… There was enough there to deal with. I hadn’t needed this feeling of obligation to recognise some stranger as a parent.

           And all that despair from back then… I knew this was exactly what Justine felt now. I had to keep in mind how Constance had understood that of me. She had let me come to her at my own pace, let me call her Mum when I was ready. Now, as an adoptive father who was prepared to offer my home to a child in need, I had to allow Justine to do the same. Let her come to me in _her_ own time. Call me Dad when _she_ felt ready. I’d smiled. Maybe I really would know what I was doing. Of course I wouldn’t forget to consult Dad for help when I’d need it!

           I had been so deeply lost in these thoughts, I hadn’t realised something was touching my fingers. Something cold. And small. Something clutching so tightly it was as if it was clinging on for dear life. And upon realising what it was, my pondering halted completely in its tracks as did my feet. I’d looked to Justine…and I’d seen she was holding my hand, watching me closely yet again, as if testing me.

_Can you really be my father?_

           And now that she had my full attention, her hand felt even smaller, more fragile. And shaky. And so very, very cold… On impulse, I’d gently squeezed it.

 _Yes,_ I’d answered her tacit plea. _I know you’ve lost everything. And I know starting over is difficult. But I can and will be your father—provide for you, listen to you, love you. And there’s no rush. You accept me only when you’re ready._ I’d added for good measure something I’m sure Constance had promised as well, probably many times, _I will never let anything or anyone hurt you again._

           And then, I’d witnessed something miraculous. A smile, ever so small but still visible, touching Justine’s lips. I’d nearly cried tears of both compassion and utter bliss. It looked like she was already accepting me as her father!

           Later that very week, I’d received a call explaining I had been approved to adopt Justine. I remembered the exact moment I’d heard this, where I’d been in the house, what article I’d been working on, what I’d been drinking (Earl Grey) and eating. I’d suddenly felt light as a feather, nearly floating straight off my chair. I’d flown out of the house just then, everything a bit of a blur, until I’d arrived at the orphanage. And there I’d met Justine, walking out the door with only a plush fox and the shirt and trousers she already had on. I couldn’t help beaming. She now truly was my little girl. And the first thing we were going to do was shop for clothing and toys and books she could finally call her own. I’d offered my hand to lead her to the car and, though still a bit hesitant, she had accepted. It had been the happiest day of my life.

           And yet, it had also been the saddest. At least, for a moment. I hadn’t really thought about it much when visiting Justine all that time, but now that she wouldn’t have to stay here and I wouldn’t have to return, I’d realised I’d be leaving all the rest of those kids behind. That was rather unfair… I had known their pain without knowing them. They too wanted a home and family and clothing and toys to call their own. But I couldn’t save them all… That was unrealistic. And Justine… She had been the most neglected… Maybe because she had been the ‘new kid’. Maybe because of her race. Surely she deserved to leave more than anyone…

           But I knew that wasn’t true and I was blaming the orphanage to justify my guilt. Those kids still had their whole lives ahead of them. Lives meant to be spent truly living, not rotting away in some slum… And if I left this place in its current state, the situation would stagnate. There had to be something I could do…

           Then a solution came to me. It was such a simple but effective strategy for improvement, I wasn’t sure how I’d not thought of it before. I could supply a percent of my monthly earnings for the orphanage. I knew all too well money wouldn’t provide them the love and happiness they deserved, but it would at least fulfil basic needs—healthy foods, refurbishments to broken down bits of the building, maybe a few new toys—until they were adopted by a parent who could offer much more. Considering how much money I’d wasted on my worthless plans for revenge, it was the slightest I could do. Constance would have been proud…

           With this in mind, I’d spoke straight away with the man who ran the orphanage, offering a couple thousand pounds for that month’s coverage. I could see a rekindling of hope in his eyes as he thanked me again and again for the generous donation. When I’d mentioned the same amount for months to come, that was when the tears had begun. I couldn’t help feeling a bit teary-eyed myself. I was reassured the kids I was leaving behind were in good hands. I’d turned to the car to see Justine sat in the passenger’s seat, watching me with that cautiously hopeful smile. And I had a daughter to call my own. I could now safely confirm this was the happiest day of my life.

           I began to return from these thoughts, finding myself smiling warmly at such a memory. But all too quickly this expression began to fade as I recalled the current situation. Justine’s illness… Despite having been living in much better conditions for the past ten years, her parents’ deaths, that orphanage and everything in between encroached upon a good chunk of her life. So much pain and suffering… Ten years… Twenty years… I myself knew it didn’t matter. No amount of time was enough to clear it away completely and somewhere in the back of her mind those events always prowled, like a greedy wolf waiting to spring forth, devouring her cheerfulness and sensibility until she was reduced to that scared little girl once more. It was no surprise she had fallen so ill…

           Then again…this theory didn’t seem to add up. Those events were forever part of who she was, but she wasn’t always ill… And I didn’t believe the murders were causing her to feel faint. She wasn’t bothered by the murderer himself at least. In fact, she had gone out or requested to do so multiple nights despite knowing she could be in danger. It was more when she talked or heard about the murders or murderer directly. Was that it? Or was it something more? What had changed?

           And then I realised. There hadn’t been a newsworthy murder like this in London since my own massacre. And though I had always been busy as a reporter, I had made time to visit with Justine in the morning and eat with her in the evening. Even force a bit of family fun game nights on her from time to time. Now that there was a murderer running about, I was leaving far too early and returning home by the time she was already gone for school. I was cutting tea short. Scheduling extra interviews which took up even more time… _That’s_ what had changed. _I_ had changed. I had allowed business to consume my thoughts, my actions, my schedule… I thought back to when I was leaving the orphanage. From the moment the adoption was approved, I’d always been there for her…up until this last week…

           “…said I’m well, so I’m out of here.”

           This last bit of what Justine was saying registered to me, drawing me back completely to the present, and as I looked to her, I nearly cried out in horror. She was attempting to get out of bed, so ashen she could pass out again at any second!

           “What are you doing?! Lie down!” I set my hands on her shoulders, stopping her. “You’re ill!”

           “I’ve got to go, Dad!” she insisted as she attempted to wriggle out of my hold. “People are waiting for me at the bakery!”

           “Surely you’re having a laugh? You need your rest! And what have I said about going out this late? No one is this important you need risk your life to see them!” I took one look at her pallid face and knew she had been planning to meet Fayne. I sighed. “Just…lay back down, please…”

           Maybe she hadn’t been thinking hard on her past before after all, I thought, a bit disappointed. In fact, it had probably been something else entirely. Her scheme to sneak out with Fayne in order to plan prom… I only knew about this from eavesdropping on her when she had spoken with the lad just last night and instead of addressing it then as I should have, I’d left it. Unfortunately, I still didn’t have much of an answer as to how to go about stopping Justine. She was becoming only more independent and strong-willed with each day’s passing. If I confronted her, I knew I’d only irritate her until she attended purely out of spite. My… Sometimes I felt it had been better when she was a little girl, too reserved to do much of anything with anyone…

           In any case, there was a killer about… The school shouldn’t even be hosting something like this! I wanted to protest. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea after all, protesting. But that would take time. Time I didn’t have. And considering the constabulary didn’t believe the situation critical enough to enforce a curfew, what would be the point? People would still be out on the streets and, if prom was cancelled, I was sure some kids would still find a way to have their own. Justine being one of those kids, especially if she found out I was the one to have requested its cancellation…

           In the end, it seemed my only solution was to continue what I was already doing. Solving these puzzles and putting an end to this killer’s spree. I recalled my interview with Tysan. There was no doubt he was hiding something to do with this mystery. Whether it was the book in a building of knowledge or something else, I had to find out. Whatever it was, he had certainly wanted to protect it…

           I now thought of the knife. How Tysan had placed it on his desk when I’d left. How he’d only wielded it once Justine had stepped foot in his office… Had he been planning to off us both? Or only her? I suppose if my theory was true, that he was somehow killing for someone, possibly even an incarcerated Bill Hawks, then he would want us both dead since I was discussing the powers after Justine stepped into his office. I clenched my jaw. What a turn of events… The man I’d trusted to care for my daughter when she and Fayne played together as kids… Plotting to kill us… I should have never mentioned I was leaving for that interview! I couldn’t very well allow her to visit Tysan’s house anymore let alone attend prom with his son! In fact, I shouldn’t even be allowing her to go to school with his son! What if he tried to attack her there, while she was out of my sight… Or made Fayne do it? Perhaps I could resolve all this by just enforcing my own curfew on Justine. Make her submit a schedule so I could know exactly where she was and at what time…

           There came a sigh to my right, causing me to blink away the rest of my thoughts, and I looked to Justine. She had laid back down, her right arm crossed over her eyes, a sulky frown on her dangerously pale lips. Oh my… I’d done it again… My compunction returned, interweaving itself amongst my insides and pulling taut. I’d allowed business to take precedence over my own daughter… This was why she was ill in the first place, remember!

           I had to force myself to stop this. Now. People were being killed but…for once, I couldn’t be worried about the future; how to predict what the murderer may or may not do or what trouble Justine might get into. Not right now. Right now I had to be here, in the present, by her side. Just as I had been from the very beginning. I needed to restore that promise I’d made all those years ago.

           Remember Dad. Always put family first.

           With this, I made an effort to file the mystery into the back of my mind. When I felt certain it wouldn’t pop into my thoughts again tonight, I stood once more and brightened my mood.

           “So, my lady,” I said as I jokingly crossed an arm in front of me like I was her servant for the evening. “How may I assist you in your time of need?”

           She glanced underneath her arm at me. “I’m fine.” she murmured. “I don’t need anything…”

           Of course, she wasn’t about to accept my offer right away… Even if her unconscious was crying out for help in the form of her illness, she was far too stubborn to ever ask for it… I had to keep trying. Maybe a basic incentive would suffice.

           “Surely you must be hungry? It’s half-nine and you haven’t eaten since lunch…”

           But instead of Justine, it was my own stomach that agreed with a low, drawn-out grumble that rolled through the silence of her room. I didn’t need to see her narrowed eyes to feel the very sharp daggers coming from them…

           “Sounds like _you_ haven’t eaten…” she murmured accusingly. “And why exactly would that be…?”

           “Surely you’ll forgive me for taking care of my daughter while she was unconscious…” In a potential killer’s office…

           “Your daughter was perfectly capable of taking care of herself…” Justine countered.

           “Really, now?” I countered in return. “Is that why I carried you out of Gressenheller and into the hospital and—”

           “Look, I don’t need anything… Just go eat. I’ll get something later.”

           She was making this incredibly difficult. Go figure, I supposed… I wouldn’t give up, though.

           “What can I get you?” I tried again.

           She moved her arm from her eyes, watching me as if to incinerate me.

           “I don’t need anything! I’m not so ill I can’t take care of myself! Just go!”

           “What can I get you?”

           “I. Don’t. Need. Anything!”

           “What. Can. I. Get. You?”

           For a moment our stubborn glares bore into one another. And then Justine backed off. But I knew the fight wasn’t over yet as she closed her eyes, lifted her eyebrows and smirked.

           “What you can get me? A father who’s eaten supper.”

           Nice try… “Later… After you tell me what _you_ want.”

           “Fine then. You can get me a microwavable pizza.”

           I sighed. “You know I can’t do that. I’ve changed your diet.”

           She continued on cheekily. “Then I guess you’ll just have to make something for yourself and not come back…”

           “You’re killing me…”

           “ _You’re_ the one killing you!”

           For a moment I stayed standing there, my mind working, stitching together the pieces of a strategy that would turn the tide of this battle. Then, I was the one to smirk. I turned round and headed for the kitchen.

           “Now don’t come back…” I heard her call in suspicious warning.

           In about ten minutes’ time, however, I did come back, and with tea for both of us, much to Justine’s annoyance.

           “A simple salad for me,” I said, reseating myself as I set my bowl on the nightstand. While handing Justine her pizza, I remarked, “and a circular hunk of cardboard for you.”

           She gave me a look. “I told you not to come back…” I mixed some dressing into my salad as a response. She carried on. “At least my ‘cardboard’ has more flavour than a bunch of leaves… Get it? _Leaves_? Like _you_ should be doing right now?” Again, I didn’t respond. Getting flustered, she jabbed a forefinger at my salad. “That’s not tea either. That’s a side dish that goes _with_ tea. Go make a steak and some veg or something. And don’t come back this time!”

           “I’m not leaving,” I said, completely unyielding as I took a bite of salad. “Not until you’re better.”

           “How many times do I have to tell you?” she went on protesting despite my tone. “I’m fine!”

           To prove her point, she tried getting out of bed once more and I felt the urge to stop her as I witnessed what little colour had returned to her face quickly drain away again. I decided against this, however. It was clear she wasn’t listening to me so maybe own body’s limitations should do the talking. With one arm crossed over the other holding my bowl, I sat back in my chair, watching her with both complacence and concern as she struggled, and lo and behold, just as she straightened, she was forced to drop back on her bed, leaning over with a hand pressured to her forehead.

           “Well, well,” I said with a mocking lilt, “What do you know? It seems dads can be right about some things…”

           “That doesn’t count,” came yet another protest. Through clenched teeth and white lips, I might add. My patience was starting to wear thin… “I get a do over…in a sec—”

           “No.” It was a simple yet imposing command. One I’d had to use only a handful of times when she was just a tad too defiant. As always, it had worked quite well. Her recalcitrance disappeared immediately and she was watching me, wide-eyed. “No do overs. No going out. No friends.” Yet, with how fast my fury had swept through me, it was snuffed out the moment I saw her blanch even further. I couldn’t stop the compassion from softening my features. “Please… Just rest now.”

           Justine finally decided to comply with me, leaning back against the headboard without another word. Already her complexion was returning to a its normal golden-peach, yet she kept her fingertips pressed to her forehead. Still more headaches? But she was looking better, so why…?

           “Look…” she began. I could hear the frustrated undertone in her voice, see her posture grow rigid and I knew she was uncomfortable with what she was about to say next. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful or anything… I just…I know you have other stuff to do…”

           I pondered these words. Paired with her body language it seemed she was talking about the murders. A bit odd, that… Ever since I’d begun investigating the very first one, she’d never wanted even me to mention them let alone reference them herself. I ventured into this.

           “What do you mean?”

           “That…murderer…” She paused, wincing, and I quickly motioned to hold her steady in case she fainted again. Despite this, she pressed on. “Those…puzzles are part of the murders… You have to keep solving them to stop him, right?”

           Much like a key unlocking a filing cabinet, these words seemed to access the back of my mind and pull to the front the mystery I’d filed away. At once, I wished to ponder what had happened and what was happening and what might happen, to this city I’d rebuilt, to the peace that had been restored, to everyone if I kept wasting time… Remember Dad, I thought, fighting back the waves of urgency that suddenly surged through me. I wanted to solve and brood over and worry, but… Remember what he’d do in this situation. Justine needed me.

           “What puzzles?” I asked her, playing dumb. “The most important task on my agenda today is taking care of my daughter.” The only response I received was a grumble as she looked away, growing only more frustrated. What was on her mind? I knew she hated when I fussed over her, but this seemed like something more… Perhaps answering her question properly would provide me some answers. “Yes. I intend to solve the puzzles until I’ve run out of clues and come to a solution to resolve these murders.”

           “Then stop worrying about me,” she answered suddenly, nearly cutting me off. “You’re letting the murderer get away when I can take care of myself…”

           I watched her, pondering what she’d said and comparing these words to her facial contours. The two contradicted each other strangely enough. Her words were pushing me away while her expression was tight, her brow furrowed, her eyes staring directly at me as if pleading against her own comment… And that’s when I realised. She wasn’t out of sorts because I was fussing over her. Rather, she was frustrated with herself. Had been this whole time… All this urging to go out or for me to leave… She was upset her illness was the centre of my attention and she had wanted to be out of my way so I would focus on the mystery and not her… Again, my guilt writhed inside me. I wondered if this was the result of my having been more caught up in this case than caring for her this past week…

           “And don’t forget,” Justine continued, her voice almost smooth with conceit while her expression grew even more rocky, “every second you waste, the killer…has more of a chance to take another life…”

           I was far too aware of how true that was and so my voice faltered. “I know that…” But I didn’t move.

           “Many other people are dying… I’m just one person…”

           “I know.” I still didn’t move.

           “So go! Why are you staying here with me, attending to silly things like my temperature and whether I’ve eaten—things _I’m_ perfectly capable of attending to—when many people are completely vulnerable?”

           For the past few days I’d been struggling with blaming myself for having failed to catch this murderer by now and these doubts had only grown more unruly since. Perhaps this had been obvious because it seemed Justine was calling up my insecurities intentionally. Worst part was, she was right. Every second I spent here, the murderer earned another second to kill. And another. And another…

           Remember Dad…

           “The public is not without protection…” I answered her slowly, my mind working through valid arguments as I spoke, grasping at straws with which to fight my own qualms and her pressuring. “They’ve been armed with knowledge. From my paper and my articles written on the killer and the crime scenes. And even if my agency isn’t the most read newspaper, people talk. I’d imagine your friends have mentioned the killer? Possibly even teachers, telling you to be safe? What about social media? You teenagers are on loads of sites that spread this news about.” She had been watching me closely, but the moment I said this, she averted her gaze and I knew my suspicions were confirmed. “So then, by now, everyone knows they’re potentially in danger. It’s their choice to walk about knowing the killer could be amongst them.”

           “But that’s just a temporary fix!” she countered, staring me down again.

           “You’re right, it is,” I admitted. “The killer still exists as a threat and information isn’t exactly a tangible object, like a shield, that can keep him out. I can’t guarantee no one else will be killed…but what I can guarantee is common sense and knowledge will keep them alive longer.”

           “We’re back to square one, then. You need all the time you can get to solve those puzzles but you’re wasting it on me.” She scrutinised me, challenged me.

           “Time spent caring for my daughter isn’t wasted.” I held her gaze, met her challenge.

           “I’m fine, though. The doctors said I would be.”

           “‘Would be.’ You’re not at full health right now.”

           “The point is I’m alive!

           “And you’re rather ill.”

           “But families are dying!”

           “I don’t care.”

           “Why?!”

           “Because _my_ family comes first.”

           Quiet. Completely and totally. So moving this simple sentence had been to Justine, so powerful, she hadn’t even opened her mouth to protest against this. In fact, she could do nothing but watch me, and I noticed her eyes had taken on that same sheen as my fifth meeting with her at the orphanage. After I’d given her tiny, cold hand a warm, loving squeeze. She had been testing me, expecting yet another person to give up on her as thousands before already had…only to watch, utterly gobsmacked, as one turned against the crowd and accepted her instead.

           “You have a fever,” I continued. “You’re pale as a ghost. You can barely stand without passing out! Do you really think I’m going to leave your side? Yes, there’s a murderer out there, but…” I thought of Dad again. How he always put family first. How I’d promised him I’d do the same when I’d adopted Justine. I had failed. Again and again these past few weeks, I had failed. And, just like at the orphanage, I knew I needed his help. These next words had to come from him before I myself could fully abide by them. “That’s what a father does. Even if his work involves saving others, he places _his_ family above all else.”

           Justine’s brow furrowed for a split second, and though to most this twitch would have been seemingly insignificant, to me it revealed many noteworthy emotions. Confusion. Happiness. A bit of relief that her test to get me to leave had failed. I expected nothing less of an adopted child who had been searching all over again for her father’s love. I had never meant to take that away from her and I would never let it happen again.

           As soon as this expression had disappeared, it was replaced by a flustered determination, Justine’s eyes skipping about the floor, scouring for evidence that could destroy my claims. She seemed unable to find any, though, as a few seconds later, enough time for her to have raised several objections, she still remained speechless. This was the quietest I’d ever seen her. I couldn’t help but feel pleased. At least I’d won one battle tonight.

           And, in a moment, it would be two…

           “Now then,” I said, breaking the serious mood with a smile. I took the plate of pizza off her bed where she’d set it at one point during our argument and placed it on her lap. “Your cardboard’s getting cold. Better eat up or you’ll never be well again. And then I’d have to dote on you even longer…”

           With this comment, rather ominous to her I’d presume, Justine began to devour her pizza…and then, just as planned, she stopped short, her eyes wide like she’d just bit into a crunchy insect.

           “Gross!” she spat. “This isn’t normal pizza!” she took just the tip of her finger and peeled back a bit of cheese topping as if inspecting a rotting corpse. “This has vegetables in it!”

           I laughed triumphantly as I walked for her door, about to head for the kitchen. “Surely you didn’t believe I was going to let you get away with eating rubbish after I’d changed your diet?”

           That was all it took. Justine drew back her arm and I had to launch myself out her room before she could literally toss my joke back in my face.

           For those past few minutes while Justine and I had talked, I hadn’t been paying much attention to the time. And that’s probably why it had felt like minutes… Instead, a couple hours had gone by and as soon as I noticed it was eleven in the evening as displayed by the stove clock, all the day’s stress began to settle on me. Light at first, and then heavier until I could feel the constant stinging in my muscles, a persistent ache in my back, a weariness threatening to close my eyes…

           Even so, with Dad’s words of wisdom fresh in my mind, I spent what little was left of the night caring for Justine. My first order of business, a more sufficient tea for the both of us. With a bit of help from Mum this time, I cooked up a steak and some veg for me as Justine had recommended and a mixture of rice, veg and beef for her.

           “Mmm! Delicious!” Justine had exclaimed once we’d both finished our meals. “That was really good, Dad!” Already, she’d started to look quite a lot like her old self again.

           I’d smiled and straightened my tie. “You think so? It wasn’t anything special to be honest. Just some plain beef and—”

           “Uurrrp!”

           Justine cut me off with a sudden and rather loud belch and I’d shot a withering look. “What do you say?”

           But of course, I’d not expected much. Instead of excusing herself, she’d flashed me an impish grin. “Now it’s your go! C’mon, Dad, you can do it!”

           “Not going to happen…”

           I couldn’t resist a smile, though. She’d started acting like her old self again as well.

           After such a late supper and due to her illness, I’d expected Justine to be quite wore out alongside me. Yet, once I’d cleaned up dishes and returned to tuck her in, she was still wide awake. Enough so to playfully tempt me into watching a film. I was surprised. It had been so long since she’d wanted to have a movie night with anyone but her friends. I couldn’t possibly shoot this opportunity down!

           And so, after enquiring which film she wished for me to pick out which incited an argument about how films no longer needed to be ‘picked out’ and anyone could just choose any they wanted from off the internet, we settled on something animated. It had featured these colourful little personifications, all with their own task to help shape a young girl’s personality and see her through some tough times growing up. Not my first choice. I would have gone with a murder-mystery or something factual, historical. But it had been a lovely film in the end. And at least it hadn’t been another quantum physics documentary with all those confusing equations and theories…

           And talking of quantum physics… No night was complete for Justine if she didn’t devour at least one physics book before bed, ill or not it seemed. Once our film ended, Justine retrieved one of her newest novels, _The Hidden Reality_ , from where it had been laying at the ready on the other side of her bed and began to take notes. It was about one in the morning at this time and I could have collapsed. Justine even insisted I go to bed, but still I stayed by her side, deciding to get a bit of reading in myself. Half an hour later, I looked up from my book and noticed, finally, she had fallen fast asleep. I chuckled. She was sprawled out, one hand resting between the final few pages she couldn’t get through, another holding a pen that had scribbled straight off onto her covers. After replacing her book and writing utensil on the nightstand, I tucked her in, kissed her on the forehead and departed from her room.

           And yet, despite the exhaustion that clung to every fibre of my being, I didn’t drop into bed straight away. My apprehension over the murders, unfortunately, had come wandering back like an uninvited guest, taking up space and keeping me awake even longer. Once I seated myself at my desk, I began to refamiliarise myself with my wall of notes and some of the newest advancements in the case. How I believed Tysan was hiding something on the Powers. How he might have lied in the journal about his dig for a ‘major artefact’. How Bill Hawks might also be involved. Might be my enemy once again…

           “ _And don’t forget…_ ” While reading about the death count—three so far—Justine’s words came back to me. “ _Every second you waste, the killer has more of a chance to take another life…_ ” I continued on, but not without the anxiety already lurking at the back of my mind beginning to materialise, like an assassin stepping out of the shadows to take aim.

           Bill Hawks may have blackmailed Professor Layton into hiding my identity. And he may have also blackmailed Tysan. This, I presumed, was a plot he’d concocted in order to have his own revenge on me… I wondered… Could I even handle struggling against him without letting my anger consume me like it had back then? When I’d attempted to destroy his city in return for his destroying my life?

           “ _These…puzzles are part of the murders…_ ” Again, Justine’s words returned. “ _You have to keep solving them to stop him, right?_ ” And again I ignored them, focusing on the last few sheets on my wall that picked apart the deciphered insect puzzle.

           ‘I can’t explain just yet how you are involved or why these answers need to be solved as puzzles.’ ‘All I can say is you’re important to me. That’s the only way you can read this.’ ‘Please continue on’… What was the intention of the very beginning message? A cautious plea about a malicious third party? Or complacent patience as the author watched their plan unfold?

           “ _You need all the time you can get to solve those puzzles…_ ”

           ‘The one closest can’t see what you see, the one furthest can.’ Meaning someone I trusted couldn’t see these insects while someone I didn’t could… Again, possibly Bill Hawks…

           “ _…but you’re wasting it on me…_ ”

           ‘The truth to them is not a mystery, the truth to them is a sham.’ One person or two? Maybe even more?

           “ _So go! Why are you staying here with me…_ ”

           ‘The answers are concealed in darkness, the solutions do take flight, the shadows are rather heartless, so hunt only by the light.’ Darkness and light… Were these figurative?

           “… _many people are vulnerable…_ ”

           ‘That is when all will be revealed.’ Translation: Good bleeding luck…

           With a groaning sigh, I seated myself heavily in my chair, staring up at the wall like it was the physical roadblock preventing me from catching the criminal. Justine was right about everything she had said… The murderer was still out there, still a looming threat, and I hadn’t even strategized my next move yet… I knew I needed that book on the Powers… So head back to Gressenheller? Try a different building of knowledge? Perhaps the library would be the next best location…? I didn’t know if this would be the right building of knowledge. Maybe Gressenheller was where that poem wanted me to find the book, considering Tysan’s reactions to my asking him about the Powers. And maybe I should be planning out another interview with him…? I may know about the knife he had been about to attack Justine and me with, but he was not aware of my knowing this. I could use this to my advantage, feign ignorance and perhaps still ease some answers out of him. He was part of this mystery somehow… He had to be… If not the bit involving the book, then another aspect of it. In the end, I’d need to confront him again. And this time, only my life would be on the line…

           With this last promise, a thought of Justine came to mind…and then I realised I had once again fixated on this mystery instead of considering her. She might not even be fully recovered by tomorrow and here I was thinking about leaving her behind to head to the library!

           I sighed once more, hanging my head as I drew a hand through my hair. Again, my apprehension was causing me to justify putting aside my own needs as well as Justine’s to puzzle out this case. But I knew I couldn’t do that. Not for another week. Not even another day. Only yesterday I’d been able to enjoy sleeping and eating a proper meal again and it had been around two weeks before that…

           At the same time, I couldn’t just ignore the murders either… I glowered, a blast of fiery anger flashing through me as I very nearly slammed my fist on the desk. There had to be some way!

           I thought of the case and the others who were part of it. The police…and Inspector Brown… And then I thought of Inspector Chelmey…and Growsky and many other members of Scotland Yard I’d met throughout the years. All dedicated to their job… There had to be some way they ate and slept, had families, their own ambitions—their own _lives_ —whilst staying abreast of the countless murder cases they took on each and every day for years.

           So what was the answer? How did I care for my little girl, have a life of my own, enjoy myself, indulge in even the most basic needs, when there was a murderer out there? I had to accept I didn’t know. And… I checked my desk clock. Two in the morning. There was no way I’d find out tonight… Perhaps it would behove me to speak with Inspector Brown on this matter the next time I saw him. I looked to the murder tally on my wall. Three. And the time between the second and third murder had dropped from a week apart to merely two days apart. I was in luck…or out of luck… I just might be seeing him again rather soon…

           Not wishing to ponder on this much longer, I decided to head to bed. But it was too late. The moment I fell asleep, my stress reawakened, like a venomous snake slithering in the shadows. I tossed and turned, mimicking the movements of its undulating body as it raced up, then it coiled around my insides and struck, sinking its toxic fangs into my mind, lacing my dreams with a sickening vacillation. To protect my daughter or save a city? To meet both our human needs or solve the puzzle…? I was dragged back into the waking world at three. And again at four. And again at five… Finally, after having been startled awake at six from a nightmare about the murderer slicing my daughter’s throat clean in half, I’d had enough. It was clear I wasn’t about to have a restful sleep so I might as well get up…

           And it seemed the beginning to my day wouldn’t be much better. The poisonous anxiety of my nightmares seeped into my thoughts, causing me to go back and forth, back and forth on what I should do. Head to the library today to look for the book? Maybe check up on Justine first?

           But she needs her space. Even I can understand that.

           So go study your notes.

           But perhaps I should verify she’s alright, just in case…

           But the murders…

           In the end, I couldn’t decide between the two so I opted for a third option. Defeated, tired and more exhausted than when I’d gone to bed last night, I trudged for the kitchen to have just one slice of beans on toast and one cup of Earl Grey. This certainly wouldn’t end my nagging worries over the murders but I needed to stop directly confronting them, even if only for a moment. As for my other issue, perhaps leaving Justine alone for a bit was for the best. Maybe doing so would encourage her to respect me more, make her think twice about meeting up with Fayne to plan prom. I could only hope at this point…

           I took a moment to attempt enjoying such a dismally small breakfast, constantly pushing away thoughts of the murderer. To my surprise I was at least somewhat satisfied in the end and I was able to increase my mood slightly after I freshened up with a long, hot shower. This was probably the closest I’d get to contented all day, I acknowledged after I’d shaved and dressed. So I supposed now might be the best time to check up on Justine. With this, I cleared my dishes and headed for her room.

           “Good morning, Just,” I greeted softly after two knocks. I poked my head in, expecting to see her just beginning to wake up. It seemed she was already out of bed so I opened her door a bit wider for a better look and, to my horror, she was getting dressed rather hastily, her complexion bleached and sickly. She looked ready to black out any second! “What do you think you’re doing?!” I cried, rushing in and nearly sweeping her up in my arms.

           “Getting…ready for…school…?” she said between laboured breaths, sidestepping away from me. “And…since I couldn’t hang out…with friends last night…I’m meeting them this morning…at the bakery…”

           “Absolutely not! You’re positively _knackered_!”

           “I’m fine…!” she insisted as she fumbled about with a buckling belt.

           “Okay, okay, stop for a second,” I demanded, holding up my palms. “Stop moving.”

           She did so. She was still breathing hard and her face drained of even more colour. Just as I’d suspected… While waiting for me to say something, she held out her hands and raised her eyebrows. “What…is it?”

           “You know what,” I said, an edge to my tone. “You can barely put on a pair of trousers without fainting and you think you should be headed out?”

           “I…promised them I’d be…at the bakery!”

           “You’re not going to the bakery.” I placed a hand on her forehead, gauging her temperature. She was burning up. “You’re not going anywhere.”

           “Dad. I can’t stay up in my room because of some stress illness! I really will die then. Of boredom! I need to go out and do things!” She suddenly gave me a very serious look. “And so do you.”

           There it was again… Her insisting I solve this mystery despite having avoided it before. Why was she still on about this? I’d told her I’d stay by her side and that’s what she had wanted… Right…? But these were questions for pondering another time, I decided. Right now she just needed rest.

           “Not today,” I answered her, meeting her challenging gaze. “I wouldn’t want you fainting while you’re without my supervision. Do you know how easy it would be for the killer to pick you off when you already practically have one foot in the grave?”

           Her only response was a sigh of exasperation.

           “Back to bed,” I demanded. “I’ll phone up the school, tell them you’re ill. You can phone your friends and reschedule a time to meet them. If they’re worth keeping, they’ll understand you need your rest.”

           As I retrieved my mobile, she clambered into bed and wrapped herself in blankets until the only bit of her I could see were her glaring eyes.

           “What would you like for breakfast?” I asked her while awaiting an answer on the other line.

           “Nothing…”

           I smirked. “Earl Grey it is, then.” And with that, I stepped out the door.

           I took only about a minute to report the situation to the school before brewing a cup or three of tea and immediately heading back to dote on Justine for another day. Of course, she wasn’t too happy about this. The tense silence exacerbated by the chill rolling off her rather frigid shoulder made that painfully obvious… She wanted so badly to be with her friends, I knew. And my lingering anxiety seemed to agree with her. Let her be, it constantly tried to heckle. You should be out looking for more leads and solving puzzles and catching a murderer. But I fought it off, staying firmly put and watching after her while keeping my mind busy reading my agency’s morning paper. She couldn’t keep up this silent treatment anyway, not when I’d been her father long enough to know all three stages (four if she was being exceptionally difficult) and had developed a counter measure for each one. This time, she’d only lasted until Stage 2: Exasperation before I cracked her. I’d used an outdated browser to search the internet only to find I’d been in the computer search menu the whole time and a soft but definite chuckle had escaped her. I chuckled myself. I thought that might do the trick.

           I didn’t wish to waste this moment. I’d managed to get her at least reluctantly talking again so I attempted to lighten the mood just a bit more, searching about for more humorous antics. And that’s when I found something that had come as a total surprise. It looked as if she’d taken a sip of Earl Grey at some point. The mug had been fit to spill over but was now only brimming. What progress! And the embarrassment when I’d teased her… What a treat!

           But Justine wouldn’t dare let me get away with finding out. To avenge her pride, she’d forced a video game controller into my hands, determined to make me face my aversion to technology. And then my light-hearted demeanour all but disappeared. That aversion existed for a reason. All those buttons and switches… They reminded me a bit too much of the Mobile Fortress’ many dials… They always had, of course, but something about actually holding the device, my fingers loosely grasping a lever, my thumb just inches from a smooth red button… It threw me right back in time to the moment I’d launched a thousand missiles in the air… But…this wasn’t the past, I had to remind myself to surface from the darkness. This was a game, something my daughter enjoyed, something she was attempting to share with me. My fears had been keeping me from giving it a chance for long enough. And so, with a smile I jokingly conceded.

           After Justine had spent about an hour teaching me (or at least an attempt at it; I had to start with baby steps, after all) she was feeling quite a bit fatigued. So far she didn’t appear to be succumbing to anymore fainting spells, so I allowed her some alone time to have a nap. I was ready for a late afternoon lunch anyway, and I could make her something once she’d awoken. As I headed out of her room and for the kitchen, I couldn’t stop pondering our morning together. Insignificant it may have seemed to any other family, but to me, and maybe even to Justine, it had been a lovely time. The teasing, the smiles and laughs, her liveliness after I’d beat my first level… It had seemed our conflict from before had ended for good. Perhaps I should do this more often…

           This respite, I soon found, wouldn’t last however. About half an hour into reading over the insect puzzle, admittedly using a bit of the mystery to stave off the worry eating away at the back of my mind, I heard a dull thud come from Justine’s room. Had she fainted again…? I pocketed the puzzle and began down the hall.

           “Justine?” I called. “Are you al—”

           I cut myself off the moment I walked in. There Justine was on the floor…but not because she had fallen unconscious. Instead, she was sat with…friends… My worry instantly went up in smoke as an angry fire ignited inside me. Friends I certainly don’t remember inviting into the house! There was Evelyne in her usual all-black clothing and piercings reading an all-black book with, strangely, no title. Beside her was a short, plump girl in a plaid headdress—a hijab I believe Justine had called it—whom I assume was the newest member of her growing group as I didn’t recognise her. Then, of course, Fayne, who was watching Justine—ogling her, rather… And lastly, the rebellious little ringmaster of this circus, Justine, who was attempting to keep another boy from climbing in through the window… No, she was very much conscious… And, as I watched on in mounting ire, very much in trouble!

           “Get out, you sod!” Justine was whisper-yelling in a harsh voice at the boy. “I told you not to come over!” I couldn’t see much other than very fair hair, a bit like Richard’s… But I didn’t need to see the boy to know he was kicking at my house, a _thud_ accompanying each attempt he made to scramble inside.

           “You tell ‘im, Justine!” Fayne cheered her on.

 _Thud…_ I clenched my jaw.

           “Yeah! ‘e’s bang outta orda! Kick ‘is bloo’y arse!” the other girl encouraged, a cat pin on her hijab bouncing as she pumped her fists. So short and small, almost adorable, she was, I was completely taken aback by her vulgarity.

 _Bang…_ And then my features tightened.

           Evelyne nonchalantly turned a page.

_Bang! Bang!_

           That’s it…

           “What. On _earth_. Is going on here…?” was what I had meant to say. What came out, however, was an inhuman growl through grinding teeth.

           At this, four pairs of eyes trained on me, and one set, Justine’s, widened in sheer terror. She suddenly pulled back inside from half-way out the window and sat up straight.

           “Oh…hey, Dad…” she smiled innocently. “It’s alright if I have friends over, yeah?”

           I folded my arms and stared her down with a scorching glare, about to give her a good piece of my mind. Before I could, however, the boy she had been attempting to keep out interrupted me, slamming his foot into the side of my house a few more times as he wriggled up. I merely watched him, letting his kicks stoke the flames roiling inside me. Eventually, he clambered inside, and with hands on hips and back arched he laughed in triumph.

           “Thought you could keep _me_ out, _eh_ , Justine?”

           Now that I could fully see who it was, the flames in my guts erupted, nearly spilling out my mouth. “Richie…?” Richard’s son… Standing in _my_ house?!

           “Hey, it’s that _penniless_ reporter _Father’s_ told me about!”

           I blinked. “Penniless…?”

           “ _Apologies_ for damaging your _house…_ or… _shack, rather_ … I’ll just _buy_ you a _new_ one.” The boy crowed again, a snobbish, grating noise that flayed the inside of my ears. “What did this _cost_ …? Only a _couple_ _thousand?_ ”

           I didn’t think I’d ever see a time when Fayne wasn’t my least favourite _thing_ on planet Earth. But here it was. Standing in front of me. With icy, conceited eyes… And swept-back revoltingly blonde hair… And that tailored suit! Something the servants I’d had as a kid could have bought me a hundred times over! And that pointed nose so far in the air it could have wrapped round and gone straight up his—

           “Dad?” Justine cut off this less gentlemanly thought. “You’re going red in the face!” She whipped round to Richie. “See what you do?”

           “Yeah, Richie!” Fayne threw in.

           “Get out, Richie!” said the other girl. “No one wants ya ‘ere!”

           “You’re just _jealous_ of _me_ ,” Richie jeered. “Just _admit_ it!”

           And suddenly everyone was talking and jeering and pushing and shoving, all while Evelyne turned yet another page.

           “Out!” I cried above the ruckus, aiming a finger at Justine’s door. I must have been more vehement than I’d intended as everyone shut up immediately and stared at me. Even Evelyne lifted her eyebrows. To break through this stupefied silence, I forcefully opened the door and jabbed outside. “The lot of you. Clear off, now!”

           Deciding they had no choice, everyone got to their feet, offering Justine upset glances as they began to leave single file past me.

           “See ya, Miste’ Doov,” Fayne said softly as he walked by. “Sorreh fer t’ troobel…” He seemed genuinely apologetic, but I took this with a pinch of salt. He’d be really sorry if he’d done anything to Justine just now…

           “Yeah, sorry, Justine’s Dad,” added the girl I hadn’t been introduced to yet. “You’re kinda bein’ a right buzzkill, though…” I did hope I got the chance to make her acquaintance at some point but I wasn’t sure about her language and attitude based on what I’d seen before. I didn’t exactly need Justine out with yet another bad influence…

           “Sorry about breaking in,” Evelyne said, her indifference making it seem as if she wasn’t really sorry at all. At least she didn’t make a comment about death… “If it makes you feel better, this won’t be a bad memory once you’re dead.”

           Nevermind…

           “ _Sorry_ or _whatever_ …” Now it was Richie’s turn and I knew for a fact he wasn’t apologising. Not with such a condescending smirk on his lips… “You know, you can _buy_ _servants_ to have me let _in_ next time. But, I _suppose_ that would cost more than the _ten quid_ you have to your _name_ …”

           For a long moment I fixed him in a critical stare. And then a rather devious plan came to mind. It wasn’t something the Professor would call gentlemanly, that was certain. But I couldn’t help myself. The payoff would be well worth it in the end… I took Richie by the arm and led him out into the hall, shutting the door behind us.

           “Hey, _paws_ _off!_ ” he yanked his sleeve out of my grasp, patting it down. “People are allowed to _touch_ me only _after_ they’ve soaked their hands in my _half-million pounds_ lotion… Mind, I said _people_ and not _stray cats_ …”

           I swallowed my urge to slug him right in his perfectly straight, white teeth and continued with my plot.

           “Do you want to know how many pounds I have on me at present, Richie?”

           “Is this a _trick question_?” he asked with a mock chuckle. “‘Pounds’ is _plural_. You only have _one_ , _don’t you?_ ”

           “Why don’t you see for yourself?” I offered him my wallet. With his face scrunched in conceited disgust, he took it between two fingers as if touching something not plated in gold would poison him. I sort of wished it would… But I didn’t let my bad mood spoil what happened next. He was checking inside…and the moment he spotted my money, his half-lidded eyes flew open as his tight, pursed lips parted in a gasp.

           “B-but… B-but th- _that’s_ …” I watched him attempt getting the words to spill out properly, barely resisting the urge to leer myself. “A-and that’s j-just in _b-bills_!” He looked up at me, one polished Blucher stepping back as if I was about to pounce. “H-how…? Th-this is more than F- _Father_ pays me in a y- _year_!”

           “Hmm, is that so?” I responded, retrieving my wallet from his loose, trembling fingers. “You know, a lot of that goes towards different charities and orphanages…but perhaps I’ll make an exception this month. Let’s say I did want to hire some servants…” I leaned in with a smile. “You have more than enough for me to choose from, don’t you…?”

           The blood drained from his face until he was nearly as ashen as the moment Justine had fainted.

           “Th-those are _our_ servants!” he shouted with shoulders raised, actually starting to tear up. “I-I’ll tell F-Father!”

           And with that he dashed straight out of my house.

           I watched the door slam shut, allowing myself a short mocking chuckle now. What a victory! Of course, that was nothing more than an empty threat. I wasn’t planning on hiring anyone, especially not someone employed by Richard… But maybe just the thought of such an idea would keep Richie from ever speaking to me again.

           My moment of light-hearted satisfaction had to come to an end, I knew. I glanced at Justine’s door. Someone was in big trouble… Turning round, I allowed my features to pull taut with a thought of her disobedience. And then they naturally pulled tighter as I walked in, spotting Justine climbing out the window in an attempt to run from the inevitable.

           “Inside,” I commanded. “Now.”

           The moment she heard my voice she halted and shot her fearful gaze up at me. I must have looked furious. She worriedly glanced away again and I could see the gears turning in her head, contemplating which would be easier to survive, a jump or my wrath. Finally, slowly but surely, she climbed back in, looking not unlike a scolded dog with tail between its legs as she moseyed over and stood before me. Even so, it seemed not even this guilt could quash the inextinguishable fire of defiance flickering in her eyes.

           “What’s your deal, Dad…?” she muttered.

           I ignored the question. “What were you thinking just then?”

           “You said I couldn’t go out to see friends, so I invited them over…?”

           “Without my permission?”

           I must have hit a nerve with this comment as she now locked her fiery regard with my own. “Why do I need your permission for that? Look, I get not being allowed to go out at night, but letting friends in here? If anything I was keeping them safer because, as you’ve brought up a _trillion_ times, the murderer’s out there, yeah?”

           “Or one of them could have been the murderer.”

           And now that fire erupted in a full blaze. “That’s ridiculous!”

           “Justine, we don’t know who’s been killing people! Do I highly doubt one of your friends is the suspect? Yes. But one can never be too careful.” I wouldn’t want to lose you too… Over something completely preventable… With a sigh, I shook my head. “I’m trying to keep you safe! And you’re ill! I forbade you from doing anything overly strenuous today and you deliberately went against me!”

           “Oh yeah, ‘cause it’s so strenuous talking to my friends! Just admit you don’t like them because all you can ever do is judge based on appearance alone!”

           “Justine, don’t take that tone with me.” And that was it. She promptly scoffed and folded her arms tight, completely closing herself off. I stormed on anyway. “I don’t want you to become even more ill. You need your rest!” But I had known from the beginning protesting would be a useless tactic. Quite infuriating as my first instinct was to do just that… But if I wanted to get anywhere, I’d need to be compliant. I clenched my teeth as if in physical pain. “I’m…sorry, Just. I understand. Really, I do…” I choked out. It was difficult, this, but at least I was getting somewhere now. She was looking at me again, though I could do without the daggers… “I promise you may invite your friends over another night. For now, though, I need you to rest.”

           “I rested yesterday.”

           “You did rest yesterday, but you’re not doing much better today, are you?”

           “But I don’t want to stay cooped up in this house… I feel like a right chicken!”

           “What about playing some video games?”

           “Done. I even got one-hundred per cent completion and all the achievements on most of them.”

           “Physics books?”

           “Read them cover-to-cover already…”

           “Homework?”

           She gave me a look. “C’mon, Dad. You know that can barely even be considered homework when I finish it at school.”

           Okay… Think of a strategy… “Alright. What _would_ keep you in bed for today then?”

           At first Justine attempted another objection but stopped and thought on this question. She then confidently looked me in the eye.

           “If you continue researching.”

           Again, she was requesting this… No matter, I couldn’t comply anyway. I’d promised to care for her over this mystery. Furthermore, part of her reason for asking could very well be a ploy to get me to leave so she could visit her friends at the bakery or invite them back in. I decided to test her.

           “I’ll be reading over my notes in the study then. Now go on. Back to bed.”

           “But weren’t you on some bit of the puzzle about visiting a ‘building of knowledge’?”

           I began to question how she knew this, but just then she shot a hand to her head and doubled up. I instantly forgot my assessment.

           “Justine!”

           “I’m fine…” She held up a hand to stop me from steadying her.

           Slowly, I backed off, waiting for her to straighten, then allowed my rigid demeanour to return.

           “Now surely this is a good enough sign you need sleep and me at your side…”

           “Okay, look!” she suddenly exclaimed, though her eyes glared at the ground, brow furrowed. From this, I knew she was flustered by what she was about to say next. “I’ll admit it! I appreciate you staying with me last night and caring for me and all that, okay? I didn’t know what was going on so it was nice that you were… Anyway! My point is…now you’re just fussing! I’ll have no choice but to keep inviting my friends over or sneaking outside if you don’t stop!”

           Oh my… She’d gone from Stage One: Cold Shoulder all the way to Stage Three: Retaliation in a heartbeat! And all this due, at least in part, to this mystery… I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose in frustration. Maybe my theory her illness was due to my absence this last week had only been somewhat correct after all. She was certainly pushing me away enough… And I couldn’t help but be partially in favour of this. Less time at home meant more time solving this mystery. Well, if she really didn’t want me around… I began to consider the possibility, running scenarios through my mind as to how I could go out while remaining aware of her status.

           “The only way I’m leaving,” I began firmly after a solution came to me, “is if I know for a fact you’ll stay in bed…”

           “I promise I will, Dad!”

           “… _And_ I’ll have someone here for you if something happens.”

           I watched as her hopeful expression fell the moment she realised what I meant.

           “No, Dad… Not a—”

           “Babysitter. Yes, I believe that will suffice.”

           “Really? A babysitter?!” Her suddenly bright red cheeks positively glowed amid her ashen face. “I’m _seventeen_!”

           Well, she was livid now… I decided this would be the best time to mention my idea of enforcing a schedule. “And the moment you’re better and back to going out with friends, school and your internship, I want a schedule submitted to me each morning so I’ll know where you’ll be.”

           “A schedule?!” She was even more furious than with my last comment. “Where am I? A concentration camp?! You know, if you would just trust me, this wouldn’t be happening!”

           “Trust is earned,” I said calmly, meeting her fiery stare. “And you haven’t exactly been doing much earning lately, have you?” She continued to bore a hole between my eyes and I could have sworn I’d seen an actual spark ignite in those umber depths. I didn’t break away. “Now, to bed.” I nodded curtly behind her. “Go on.”

           She clenched her jaw tight, a number of emotions suddenly crossing her features before she turned on her heel and plunged under the sheets, face-down.

           “Now then,” I said as I took out my mobile. “I’m calling Uncle Cogg over but I’m not leaving until he’s here, all right?”

           Justine didn’t answer.

           And in the meantime—I thought with yet another heavy sigh—two cups of Earl Grey. I knew I was going to need them to calm my frustrations…

           As I stepped into the kitchen, putting the kettle on, I rang my old servant and mate Cogg. He was the best candidate to care for Justine as not only was he in charge of her internship, but he was someone I knew for a fact couldn’t be the murderer. He may seem like one with his brawny stature and burly demeanour, but he was really nothing more than a giant mane of a beard attached to a soft teddy bear. By the time he arrived, I had downed three cups of Earl Grey and after I let him in (enduring a hardy handshake and a bear hug that nearly left me with broken ribs) I downed a fourth, offering him a cup as I informed him of the situation.

           “She’s been ill,” I’d said. “A fainting spell due to stress. I’ve been keeping her inside and watching after her for the past day or so.”

           “Oof. She mustn’t like that one bit, young sir…” he’d said, worry furrowing his brow.

           I’d leaned in with the side of my hand up to my mouth. “Stage Three.” His eyes had grown wide. “In a matter of seconds. I’d be careful if I were you.”

           He assured me he would take good care of Justine and, a bit too enthusiastically, mentioned teaching her some simple and safe mechanical tricks if she was up for it. I wondered about that ‘simple and safe’ bit, but I didn’t wish to tarry much longer. As soon as he headed for Justine’s room, wishing me farewell, I left for the library, knowing Justine was in good hands.

           I was finally out and about again and I felt the anxiety that had been weighing me down for the last twenty four hours lift a bit from my shoulders. I actually welcomed its urgency. It was a helpful asset now that I could progress, not sit in my bedroom or Justine’s constantly thinking about what I could be doing rather than doing it.

           Using this to my advantage, I recalled the many different facets of this mystery and broke them down into something I could digest, searching for an achievable goal for the moment. Firstly, what was I looking for. A book on the Powers, the only specific physical thing the insect puzzle had mentioned that might hold another clue. This book lay at a building of knowledge. I’d already assumed this meant a university, and perhaps it still did. It could still very well be Gressenheller. Or it could mean its library, a place I had meant to go after my interview with Tysan, but due to Justine’s illness, had never got the chance. I made a mental note to head there later if I still had time tonight. The book might also be located at a different university, but there weren’t any as close as Gressenheller, nor were there any bookstores, another possible candidate, that were near my house and I wanted to remain within the vicinity in case something happened to Justine. So for now my only option was a library a street away. And as I looked up, I saw I was already at my location. Let’s finally make some progress.

           However, just as I was walking in, my mobile began to ring and the mystery all but vanished from my mind, replaced by thoughts of what could have happened to Justine or Cogg or both. Had she fainted again? Had Cogg destroyed the house? I swiftly answered.

           “Hello, is everything al—”

           “ _Dove_ …”

           This was clearly a mistake in hindsight. Richard…

           “Good afternoon, Richard,” I answered. I had the urge to be as pompous as possible with him, but I’d already been less than gentlemanly with his son so I decided against this for now. “I’m rather busy at the moment. If you could make this quick?”

           “You know what I’m gonna make _quick_ , _Dove_? Wringin’ your _pencil-thin neck_.”

           I blinked. Oh my… “What’s tied a knot in your trousers…?”

           “What did you _do_ to my _boy_ to make him run home _cryin’_?”

           I scoffed. “He cried over that?”

           “What did you _bloody_ do?”

           “Easy,” I said, leaning against the stone stair wall leading up to the library. I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon I could see… “He was being a right tyrant, Richie. Insulted my earnings and the like, a lot like what you do on the daily. So I let him have a look inside my wallet. When he saw how much I had, I merely implied I’d hire your servants and he legged it. That’s all that happened.”

           “A right load of waffle, that!”

           And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you… “And what do you propose happened, eh?”

           “You _gobbed_ on him, firstly!”

           “I did what…?”

           “Then you _pushed_ him _around_ a bit!”

           “No, I don’t—”

           “And then you _picked_ him up by the _breeches_ , _flipped_ him upside-down and _shook_ the money out of his _pockets_!”

           “I’m sorry, are you suggesting I mugged a boy from the 1920s…?”

           “Probably _stole_ some too, I’d bet. What with you on _holiday_ , not earning a single _penny_ …”

           “Now that’s enough waffle to make breakfast!” I countered. “All I did was poke fun at how spoilt he is… Something his father could certainly stand to remedy!”

           “Look, _Dove._ Don’t you _ever_ lay a _grimy hand_ on my boy _again_.”

           “I never laid any hand on him in the first place!”

           “I’ll make _sure_ you make the _papers_. I’ll ring the _police, Dove_.” And just before he promptly hung up he shouted, “Keep _away_ from my _boy_!”

           With pleasure! I swiftly pocketed my phone. Bloody… Certainly wound up, he was! All because that no good, little…! I sighed, taking a second to calm myself. What was I expecting, I supposed. It wouldn’t have mattered if Richie had lied or not. I could never hope for reason from someone who took pride in twisting the truth…

           Shaking this conversation off, I finally entered the library. The moment I left the entry and stepped into the main building, I had to stop and marvel at all the books on display. Shelves and shelves, for as far as I could see. And somewhere amongst them was the possibility of a book on some Universal Powers. A theoretical needle in a haystack…

           It wasn’t as if I hadn’t known there would be thousands of books. Before this murder case I would come here regularly to pick up a number of murder-mysteries to enjoy in my leisure time, small as that was (and before Justine’s more extraverted days she would join me with a science book or five). I suppose I had just been so caught up in the mystery itself I’d not really taken the chance to look into the details, visualise the library and consider how large it was, how many books I’d need to search through to find the correct one. If there was a correct one… If not, I’d have wasted hours, perhaps days all while the killer picked off more citizens… Well, I was here now and I had left Justine in order to do this so I had to come up with a something. I had been quite skilled at making up plans on the go when I’d enforced my revenge. I could certainly do the same now while catching a murderer. Start small. Start basic. What could I use to help me? A map of the library? A computer to search the database? Or maybe…

           A brilliant idea suddenly came to me. The insect puzzle. It had been my guide so far. I slipped a hand into my pocket and retrieved the sheet, beginning to read over the deciphered message.

 

‘Congratulations on solving the puzzle’…

 

           I stopped. The letters. They were…faded? I thought back to this morning when I’d read it over in the sitting room. I couldn’t remember seeing this then… Was this a clue? I lifted the paper up to the light and tilted it back and forth. No matter how much I illuminated the words or the angle at which I held them, though, they remained almost illegible. Or had my pen not worked when I’d decoded the insect? I had been in a rush after all as I was still at the office at the time. But certainly I could read the message quite clearly before…? Perhaps it had been simply rubbing against itself too much. I’d kept it in my pocket all day yesterday and after running round from work to home to Gressenheller to the hospital to home once more, I suppose the ink was wearing away. Maybe typing it up would help increase its survivability with me…

           Retiring these thoughts for now, I skimmed the full message from the author, remembering my theory from last night they may very well be on my side, attempting to foil the plans of whoever it was—Tysan, Hawks or someone completely unknown—going about killing Londoners. The author couldn’t at present explain why I was involved. Every message from them had to be concealed behind a puzzle and I could only see these puzzles because I was important to the author. I was meant to continue on and all would be revealed in due time. Was this a puzzle in and of itself, one that told me where the book on these Powers lay? Was there something I was missing?

           But the more I reread the message, the more I was certain that was all it was. A message, plain and simple. I still had the poem. However, this didn’t seem to be much of a clue either. Even reading over the bit about the building of knowledge and the book of Powers that resided there didn’t betray a specific location. I suppose if these answers I was uncovering were meant to be kept hidden from someone else, there was a reason finding this book was so difficult. But there were lives at stake here…

           I began to walk and read at the same time, making my way to a table at the back of the library where I could continue to research without too much distraction. I needed to plot out a better way to approach this situation. Firstly, was the book even here? I glanced up for a moment to be sure I wasn’t about to run into anyone, then looked down again to continue reading the paper. Maybe there was a clue in the poem about that? I didn’t even need a specific location. Just something more than a building of knowledge. I looked up again to see how near I was to the table, then back down to the poem again. And I suddenly stopped. Just a moment ago, something had popped up on the paper. I was sure of it… But there was nothing there now. No… It must have been a flash of sunlight from the window I’d passed playing tricks with my eyes…

           I continued to walk and ponder. Maybe there was a line in here that hinted at a certain building of knowledge? One with professors? I looked up once more. Nearly there. Then looked back down. Maybe a building of knowledge with books? I glanced up. Glanced back down. Maybe a hint about ones I could purchase and ones I could check out? Glanced up and then back down. And…there it was again! I’d seen another flash of light cross the paper and along with it another…something or another pop up. But, again, there was nothing there… I shook my head. I was so bent on finding clues I was hallucinating them! Better get to that table before I was seeing more than just light bursts…

           I walked on in haste, watching the paper, thinking of more possibilities that could be of help…when I was stopped yet again by flashes of colour and what I had only been catching snatches of reappearing in full.

           “Blimey…” I breathed. Numbers… I glanced over them. Again and again. There were numbers amongst the faded letters… But these weren’t the same numbers I’d already deciphered. These formed a fresh line of Fibonacci code!

           And now I felt inclined to run, no longer for the table I was so close to but for the nearest study room. But I was struck with a sudden thought that caused me to stay put. What if they disappeared? They weren’t like the others that had appeared to me all at once in the form of the insect, so why now? Was it based on time? Was it this location? Maybe time and location? What if they vanished the moment I left this spot? What if they vanished now? I shook my head. Well, if so, this was no time for thinking!

           I stole into my pocket and grabbed a notepad and pen, jotting this newest set of numbers down in a messy scrawl. All I could do afterwards was stare. Out of awe another clue had come to me. Out of fear it would disappear anyway. So far, it stayed, each second that ticked by calming my worries. And so too the line on the original paper stayed. So perhaps their appearance wasn’t based on time… But it could still be location.

           I looked about, gathering my surroundings. I was at a window near the very back of the library. Stained glass. The only one like it here. Near shelves ‘Za to Ze’ of the historical section and, on the other side, ‘Ab to Ac’ of science. And once I had an image of this area formulated in my mind, I set off. No time to waste, just in case.

           I strode for the front desk, quickly requested a study room and then locked everyone else out the moment I entered. Once I seated myself, I looked back at the numbers in my notepad and sighed in relief. They were still here. I unfolded the original insect puzzle and compared them. I was right to have trusted my instincts on this. The numbers were gone. At once I had multiple questions as to why this might be. My location theory might be right but… I glanced to the words from the first set of numbers I’d deciphered. They were still faded. What if this new line’s appearance was somehow attributed to the original message disappearing? The timing of these events seemed to concur after all.

           Either way, I had the numbers and that was all that mattered. I could ponder more on their appearance later. For now, I needed to decode them. With this, I set the page of numbers above the insect puzzle sheet and, with my other sheet featuring the Fibonacci numbers, began to write out the newest message under the old, faded one.

           “Six-ten,” I muttered almost silently to myself, my eyes constantly jumping about, my pen following the code until I found the number I was looking for. “‘N’. Nine-eighty-seven, ‘O’. Forty-six-thirty-six-eight, ‘W’…”

           For the next five to ten minutes I scoured and scribbled, scoured and scribbled, until I had the very last letter. Even then, I didn’t set my pen down. I was too enraptured by the message I now had to do much of anything but take the sheet in hand and read it over, completely and totally astonished.

 

‘Now the book is very close by

And remember, light is the key

A new place is what you must try

And you must know cryptography’

 

           I read it over again. And again for good measure. Another bit of the poem… So it seemed the book was close by. And I needed to search a new location. Did that mean a new location in the library? Or a new location altogether? I should assume for now it meant inside the library. I could have a look around and be finished by tonight, checking off this ‘building of knowledge’ from my mental list if I didn’t find it.

           And how to go about finding it? I already had an idea. Those numbers had disappeared on the original message once I’d left. Perhaps the location of the book and that of the numbers reappearing coincided. I recalled the area of the library I’d been before. Back corner. ‘Za to Ze historical’. ‘Ab to Ac science’. Large, stained glass window. And with my vigour renewed, I set off once more.

           As I walked past loads of shelves, totally oblivious to the people I was budging through, I took this chance to look back at this last stanza. Something about cryptography? This was a fairly broad term that included many different types and though Professor Layton’s interest in puzzles may have rubbed off on, I knew for a fact there were some I could never hope to understand. Particularly, the digital kind… Perhaps I could ask Justine about this if it came to it…

           Whether or not this would be the case, I knew even digital cryptography shared the same basic definition as all the rest. To encode and decode messages from one party to another without a third party’s knowledge. So if the author was the encoder and I was the decoder… I now glanced at the third stanza. ‘The one furthest away can see what you see.’ Was it this person, or persons, furthest away who was the third party the author was trying to keep the messages and poems from? Had my theory been right, that the third party could see these insects? Could they attempt to solve them and potentially use them for something involving the Powers? Or had they been solving them already…?

           If so, then these thoughts would solidify two working theories: That the author and I were on the same side and that someone else, the killer perhaps, could also see the puzzles. I would remain sceptical until I was certain, though. I knew what it was like to ask my pawns to trust me only to betray them in the end, and I myself did not intend to become a pawn in this game. I would find the truth…and hopefully in time to save any other potential victims.

           I glanced up to see I had returned to the back corner of the library. There was the single table as well as the shelves, the end of ‘historical’ and the beginning of ‘science’. And the stained glass window, scattering a kaleidoscope of colours on the floor. Like a rainbow spotlight it seemed to beckon me. I didn’t hesitate a moment longer.

           As I stepped over and held up the insect puzzle, sure enough amongst the clash of reds, blues, greens and purples the newest line of numbers appeared, identical to the ones I’d written down. I shielded the paper with my hand and when the sunbeam no longer connected, the numbers disappeared. That really was it… I glanced back at the poem, studying the very last line on the final stanza of the original message. ‘So hunt only by the light.’ And then the newest message, ‘light is the key’. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why. Maybe my science fanatic of a daughter could explain it, but I certainly couldn’t. Light really was the key to finding new clues.

           But…why sunlight? I found myself wondering. If I was to acquire more answers like this one, I’d need to know as many specifics as possible. Was it something about the stained glass? It was the only decorative window in the place, after all…

           And then I looked outside. The brilliant illumination was not, in fact, the sun, but a street lamp that had flickered on in the settling twilight. More specifically, a lamp from Gressenheller University that overlooked the library. My heart leapt in my chest. The building of knowledge, my instinct of not giving up on the university and now this light from the university itself, revealing a stanza of the poem that not only hinted at a different location but also claimed the book was close. They were all directing me back to Gressenheller. It seemed the light was shining a way towards a brighter future for both students and potential victims in this case.

           And, I couldn’t forget what else was at Gressenheller. Whatever was in Tysan’s desk drawer. His journal mentioned the Powers and if he’d been nervous just talking to me about that, then surely, _certainly_ , the object in his desk that he would have killed to keep secret really was the book I’d been searching for this whole time…

           But how to go about retrieving it when the man was already wary of me? I had thought earlier that day of scheduling another interview, but how could I do so without him becoming suspicious or attempting to kill me? My features tightened. I didn’t like the idea that had just slunk in from the darker corner of my mind. Break in.

           I shook my head, clearing it of this thought. Perhaps… For now, I needed to head home, add to my wall of notes these newest connections and discoveries. Afterwards I’d plan out my next move. I hoped this next move would not involve my infiltrating a man’s office to steal, but if it did…so be it. This was to stop the murders after all.

           I put these thoughts behind me for now as I began for home, a sort of giddiness stirring in my chest once more. A new clue. Another step closer to catching the crook… I couldn’t have been happier.

           This moment, however, was short lived.

           As I stepped out the door, my mobile began to ring. I looked to the screen to see Mary’s number.

           “Good evening, Mary,” I answered quickly, a bit carried away by my excitement. I chuckled. “It’s not exactly five in the morning. What are you doing calling so late?”

           “Sorry to interrupt your holiday, Clive!” she said. I noted she was only attempting to sound chipper.

           “Something the matter?” I asked.

           She hesitated but a moment, and then…

           “Eeeyeah… There’s been another Hourglass Murder…”

 

 

Deep underground, far under London’s streets, Thanat was pacing about. Each sharp turn, each angry crack of his heel caused his hostage to flinch against the steel bars that caged him. But for once he wasn’t paying the man any mind.

           Where was his spy? Thanat ruminated, the thought a hornet buzzing about his mind, prodding and stinging again and again. It had been taking longer and longer to meet him here as of late… And it had been doubting him and what they were doing… But had he not convinced it by reminding it of its parents? That they could both find their loved ones again…? Surely it wouldn’t betray him after all this time?!

           “—hy…?” a voice materialised amongst his thoughts before a _buzz_ and prompt _zap_ forced its soft cadence into a muffled shriek.

           Thanat would have appreciated this much more if it hadn’t cut through his concentration. He nearly hissed through his teeth. “ _What. Is it…?_ ”

           The hostage trembled, but this was from the shock leaving his system, not his captor. In fact, he watched Thanat with a calm he’d trained himself to feel during these dark times. They were feeding him, giving him water, keeping him alive for torture. And he’d seen it. His son and grandson, his granddaughter, now his adoptive mother… All dead because he wouldn’t comply. He missed them. Dearly, he missed them. But he would continue to refuse, to fight, to stare down the man who stood over him. He had chosen justice over their lives and he knew that’s what they all would have wanted.

           “Why…are you…” he got out before stifling another shriek as the shock collar bit into his neck. After a convulsion and a fit of coughs, he caught his breath and continued. “…doing this…?”

           Thanat watched the man as another shock ripped into his throat. His body convulsed, his breathing grew laboured, but those dark eyes never left him. So, there was still some fight in him… Surprising. He’d never seen a hostage last this long.

           “Your tenacity is commendable,” he said. He genuinely meant this. He could respect those who fought for their goals and passions. It’s what he was doing, after all… “Unfortunately, you’re wasting your energy. You could never understand my intentions.”

           “I can’t imagine…” the man said, enduring another shock, “it’s…money you want…”

           “And you’d be right. My organisation is not interested in this world’s riches. And even if they were, I myself have far greater goals to achieve. What I will have in the end are riches more valuable than all the world’s money. More power than the Powers themselves!”

           And the very moment the words left his lips, Thanat doubled up, wincing, pressuring a hand to his forehead. When he forced his eyes open amid the pain, he saw not the underground laboratory, but something else. Something that was becoming more and more familiar to him with each passing hour…

           “ _Commander Thanat?_ ” came a voice. Thanat turned to see a man standing before him, cloaked in black from head to toe. “ _Good, you’re awake. We need your next order. From whom shall we extract next?_ ”

           “ _Commander Thanat!_ ” came another voice. Again, Thanat turned but made no effort to speak. “ _The extraction has failed…_ ”

            _Keep looking…_ he heard his own voice command though his lips didn’t move. _Find more subjects… We need more…_

And then he stood above a crowd he didn’t remember calling.

           “ _This is an incredible undertaking, Commander. We offer you our services._ ”

           Hundreds, thousands of people moved as one, crossing arms over chests and bowing in deep respect.

_Don’t bother me… This process is failing and you know it… If he won’t aid me, then I need only two people for this endeavour… Alive… And I will be the one to take their lives once I’m finished…_

           The images disappeared from Thanat’s mind, leaving him standing in the underground lab once more. What were they trying to tell him…? He couldn’t seem to remember them…

           No matter. He turned his back on his hostage, facing one of the many walls surrounding him that housed his other captives. He wouldn’t waste his time on the past, fabricated or not. He had plans only for the future. And once his spy returned, he would be one step closer.

 

 

At another time and another place, a different spy was waiting. He should have been here by now, he was thinking. He had needed his input yesterday after all… He didn’t like sitting here. Anticipating. Watching. Looking about, his eyes darting to every little noise. He was in a special area, away from the rowdy, raucous cries of the damned. But he would have taken shouting over the dead silence of this place…

           A creak sounded in front of him. The man jolted in his chair, looking before him to see who he had come to speak to. Most of him was hidden in the shadows that lingered in every corner of this dark dungeon, but he could very clearly make out the ice-blue eyes that pierced him like shards. His superior’s stare made what he had come to say even harder to choke out.

           “Oh… It’s only you…” he stuttered in good-nature, holding a shaking hand to his chest.

           Those cold eyes watched him. Unblinking. Not a trace of a smile in their depths.

           “What do you bloody mean ‘it’s only you’?” came just the whisper of a voice. “Have you forgotten who holds your very life in his hands?”

           Such hatred in those breathed words… “M-My apologies, sir… I…suppose I should start explaining…”

           “So why haven’t you done so yet?” the man questioned. He leaned in, those shards of ice drawing closer, like daggers at his throat. “Eh?”

           “R-Right, sir…” Thank Christ he couldn’t touch him here… His stare was bad enough… He swallowed, clenched and unclenched his teeth, then relayed the bad news. “Those puzzles… They…”

           “Yes?”

           “Th-They’re…the same as the one from Thanat, sir…”

           What he received as an answer was a chilling silence. His superior sat there, his cold gaze biting into his skin like frost. His heart pumped faster and faster, his umber eyes unable to perceive what the man was thinking. He found himself once again wishing for shouting over dead silence…

           And he received it.

           “What could you possibly mean?!”

           The man had slammed his fists, the clanking of metal intensifying his sudden shriek. The inferior flinched backward.

           “I-I…”

           “How can that possibly be?! There’s meant to be one with a code for…!” The superior stopped himself. Set a hand on his forehead and just breathed for a second. “Surely you’ve been placing the Hourglasses on the bodies so he could actually find them…?”

           “Yes, sir. Of course…”

           “In the locations I’ve told you to?”

           “Yes, sir…”

           “Then there must be something he’s missed…”

           “I-If it’s any consolation, sir, I forgot to mention…” he smiled at his superior, certainly this would placate him. “He found out that light reveals more clues.”

           The man watched the floor for a moment. Before long, those two icicles were boring into his inferior once more.

           “Where’s he at?”

           The other man hesitated, the sweat that had already been beading on his forehead slipping past his brow.

           “Answer me.”

           “He’s…”—he inhaled then exhaled—“He’s at the bit about the book…”

           “Don’t stop him.”

           The inferior watched his superior in shock.

           “But…what if…?”

           “Don’t stop him, I said.” He watched as his inferior blanched. “Don’t disappoint me. In fact, you said there was another body? Go move it. Now.”

           “N-Now…sir…?”

           “Yes! And this time, add a bit of the book…”

           “The book…?”

           “Are you a bloody parrot? Go! Now!”

           The man didn’t move.

           The superior pinpointed his inferior with a stare so intense it could have drawn blood.

           “You think just because he’s out there and I’m in here I can’t hurt you more?”

           The inferior looked up at his superior, his eyes wild with fear.

           “But…”

           “You want to keep your life, don’t you?”

           “Yes, sir…”

           “Then don’t worry about your wife and sons. Do as _I_ say. The body.” He slammed his fist and again the clanking of metal nearly jolted the inferior out of his skin. “Now.”

           “Y-yes, sir. As you wish.”

           But as the inferior left his superior’s presence, suppressing the urge to vomit, he knew he had to choose. Which poison to pick? he thought, gagging. His own life or his family’s?

           And who else would he have to sacrifice along the way…?


End file.
